


Daemon Spawn

by Haunt_Haunt_Haunt



Category: Monster Prom (Visual Novel), Warhammer 40.000
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Chaos Warband, Does That Make Damien Gargamel, Ultrasmurfs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-09
Updated: 2018-11-09
Packaged: 2019-08-21 02:12:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16567631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Haunt_Haunt_Haunt/pseuds/Haunt_Haunt_Haunt
Summary: What would happen if Damien were dropped in the Warhammer 40K Universe?





	Daemon Spawn

Ventris wiped his brow and placed his helmet back on his head, scanning the battlefield, even as ricochets and bolter shells erupted into the walls that he was using for cover. The heretics were few in number, so what was the problem? He immediately realized it--he had never seen Khornates so organized, and these ones seemed to love fire. He could make out some of the traitors that composed this warband. There were only thirty of them, some of them were Black Legion, there was a fair number of World Eaters, and he even noticed one or two Word Bearers. What made it worse was their leader. He could see him up on the hill, clad in baroque power armor, sitting in a throne of bone of all things and looking completely unaffected by the carnage around him. Sure, every now and again, he’d level his bolter, and every time he did, another Ultramarine fell. The man was good, and Ventris doubted if his company could take this warband alone. The Champion was one of the few with bolters though. At least half of the band wore promethium tanks and fought with Flamers. They looked to have been stolen from Salamanders. The heads of the Flamers were in dragon motifs.

Ventris crouched back down and started issuing orders. They needed to take out the Flamers. If they could do that, then they could finally top that hill. In the meantime, it was going to be up to him to take out the leader of the warband. He transmitted his orders then and without missing a beat, he vaulted the low wall in front of him while drawing his bolter. Wasting no movement, he drew his power sword and whirled into the enemy, screaming and hacking and shooting and trying to maximize his carnage. He took off a heretic guardsman’s head at the shoulders, and his bolt rounds pierced two of the Traitor’s Promethium tanks. The smell of cooking meat and the sound of shrill screaming erupted into the air. Ventris kept running. He was going to taste the blood of the Champion that led this band, or he was going to die trying. He finally reached the top of the hill and slashed into one of the men guarding the Champion. It dissipated into smoke, and the champion began laughing. His voice wasn’t nearly as deep as Ventris thought it would be. He slowly stood, being the same size as Ventris, and he turned, drawing a Power Sword from his belt.

“I am a servant of Chaos. I don’t need bodyguards.”

Ventris was able to take stock in full now. The Armor was covered in spikes and studs, and there were two Space Wolf helmets impaled on each pauldron, obscuring his heraldry. It looked like whatever it was, it was on a black field. There were two horns that extended from under his helmet, though one was broken, and the helmet didn’t look like power armour. It actually looked more like a feudal design, but the face was still obscured in shadow. A spiked tail swept back and forth behind him. It was a small thing, more like a Manta or Sting Ray than a reptilian tail. Ventris swept his sword to the side, flicking blood onto the ground.

“I didn’t know they sat around while their servants did all the fighting, either, or did the tenants of the Blood God change while I wasn’t looking?”  
In the darkness of the helmet, a row of spiked white teeth appeared in a grin.

“Khorne and I had a falling out. I didn’t like his hair.”

Ventris made the sign of the Aquila over his breastplate when the God’s name was uttered.

“Oh. What a fun reaction. Do you do that every time a name is said? The valiant Ultramarines. So stalwart, you know, you’re supposedly the perfect sons of the Corpse God. I never did like you.”

“Enough talk. Tell me your name, Traitor, so that I can curse it as you die.”

The Champion flicked his blade in response and lunged at Ventris. Ventris parried, but he wasn’t expecting the champion to be as fast as he was. Ventris briefly wondered about the battle below, but the champion’s black blade nicked his helmet. It brought him back to reality. His brothers were on their own. He swung his sword high, only to have the Champion grab it with his gauntleted fist. Ventris smiled and hauled it down, expecting the power field to allow the sword to cut right through the Champion’s hand, but it didn’t move. His expression was one of surprise. He stared dumbly as the champion lowered his hand and brought the blade with it, then, when his hand was level with his chest, he snapped his wrist, and Uriel’s blade broke.

Ventris dropped the now useless hilt of the sword. He wasn’t ready for this. Whatever this creature was, it wasn’t human, and it wasn’t Astartes. The Champion began laughing, almost crazed.

“Is there a problem, Captain?” He asked.

“What are you?”

The figure removed his helmet revealing short black hair and red skin, but with shining yellow eyes. The horns were attached to his head, and weren’t a part of the armor like Uriel originally thought. He grinned again, showing those sharpened teeth.

“I’m a daemon. Are you blind?”

Ventris balled his hands into fists and glanced down at the battlefield, which was growing silent. Ultramarine corpses littered the ground. They had failed. Ventris dropped to his knees and removed his helmet, then lowered his head, revealing his exposed neck.

“Make it quick, Daemon. I’ve earned it.”

The daemon hefted his sword, aiming squarely at Ventris’ neck.

“My name is Damien Fucking LaVey, and Malice sends his regards.”

**Author's Note:**

> This is work number 15!


End file.
